What We Did in the Dark
by TheEvanescentOne
Summary: Voldemort loved watching Bellatrix when she tortured her victims. It brought him a great deal of pleasure but watching her simply was not enough. Eventually he would have to take matters into his own hands to get what he truly wanted from her.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm unsure whether to continue this story or leave it as a oneshot. Some feedback would be really helpful so please review and let me know what you think. **

**Bellatrix / Voldemort. Mature content.**

**XxX**

Voldemort loved watching Bellatrix.

She was a truly gifted witch in many fields. She had proved herself as a worthy follower from a young age; an excellent student and a loyal servant to him. Her magic was enthralling. The way she worked the wand between nimble fingers and the flashes of sheer joy that contorted her often terrifying expression were quite addictive once you caught a glimpse.

The Dark Lord had discovered this when he had presented Bellatrix with her first victim on one of their early private sessions. She had snorted when he questioned whether she had used the Cruciatus Curse before. Usually such a reaction of disdain would have earned a follower a good beating but the lightning spark in her black eyes caused him to refrain. He was intrigued by the young witch's apparent confidence. She sauntered to the bound Muggleborn like a predator eyeing up its next meal. The Dark Lord could tell she was not in any hurry to try and impress him. Having practiced on animals as a child, Bellatrix carried out the deed and enjoyed it as she did so.

She was skilled at making her prey squirm with anticipation before finally releasing her full wrath on them. And when she did, by God, it was a thing of beauty. The Dark Lord's eyes would narrow as he drank in the sight of the dark woman before him; her head thrown back in ecstasy at the sound of the shrill screams that pierced the air and her frequent guttural roars of the Curse until there was silence – nought but heavy breathing from the witch as her victim, white haired and wide eyed, twitched and opened their mouth like a fish out of water before they were finally still.

The Dark Lord made a habit of bringing Bellatrix victims to their lessons. He was not a man to be swept up in such foolish things as love but he could not deny that watching Bella torture that filth brought him a great deal of pleasure that he could not experience any other way.

On one of these occasions, the Dark Lord stood close by, as always, watching silently and absorbing the sights and sounds of the night until another Mudblood lay bloodied and dead on his floor. Bellatrix's eyes, misty with pleasure, found him. Her heaving chest threated to burst free of her corset.

"Did I please you, my Lord?" she asked breathlessly; desperate for the opiate that was her master's approval.

Voldemort showed her no sign of frustration but inside the answer was quite clear to him and it slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

"No, Bellatrix. You have not."

Bellatrix's face fell. Her eyes, in an instant, became wide and sorry and her lip quivered, "No, master?" she fell to her knees, defeated by her Lord's reply, "What did I do wrong?"

The Dark Lord's expression hardened as he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the sorry state this potentially great witch now found herself in. It angered him that his words could impact her so easily, "Nothing, Bellatrix. You did nothing wrong."

"I-I don't…"

"Hush, Bellatrix," his cool tone cut through the air and stopped her from drivelling.

Voldemort stepped towards her until he towered over her kneeling position and looked down on her. He bent over just enough so that he could cup her cheek with a firm hand and Bellatrix flushed at the contact. It occurred to him that he had never touched her before. Her pale skin was soft under his touch. He caressed it with his thumb and Bella's doe eyes blinked in confusion. Her mind was reeling; she was terrified and excited all at once.

"You have not pleased me. Not yet," his voice came like the hiss of a snake. She quivered like a leaf.

"What can I do, my Lord?"

Without warning, the Dark Lord's hand jerked from her cheek to grab a fistful of her hair and force her head to his groin. Bellatrix gasped and glanced up at him.

"My Lord…"

He tightened his grip on the back of her hair and reinforced his order. Her breath came thick and heavy and he gripped his abdomen as he felt her full lips brush against him.

Bellatrix's hands shook involuntarily as she pushed aside his robe and tentatively released him from the constraints of his trousers. The Dark Lord showed her no sign of whether she was doing it right. He only cast his eyes down on her, watching her every move. He could feel her hot breath against him as she teasingly played with his cock. Delicate fingers; the same as when he watched her use her wand. When her tongue made contact an involuntary groan escaped him.

This was all she needed to gain confidence. She had never done this with an older man before; only a handful of boys through her school years and even then she had never sunk to her knees for them. This was different, it was derogatory but she didn't mind – not with the Dark Lord. Her lips slid over him and soon she found a steady rhythm. Her hands worked wonders as she did and she could tell the Dark Lord approved by the way he tugged at her hair and forced her harder.

It didn't take long for her to finish him and as he did he forced his length deeper than ever into her mouth until he could feel her choke around him and grip at his robe to steady herself. He held her there as she struggled until the moment had passed and then he released her sharply so that she fell back, coughing and spluttering and gasping for air. Voldemort tried to regain control of his breath quickly but found the sight of her, with his cum dripping down her chin as she filled her lungs desperately with air, to be all too much to do so. The mess was captivating.

Once able to breathe again, Bellatrix wiped her chin with the back of her hand and glanced down to see the droplets that ran down her chest. She licked her lips and found his gaze. For a moment, the pair were silent.

"Did I please you, my Lord," she repeated her earlier question.

Voldemort said nothing for a long few moments. Finally, his stony gaze returned and he brought his robe around him once more, "Yes, Bellatrix. You have pleased me," her lips stretched into a relieved smile and she stood to approach him but a swift gesture told her to stay.

"Now you may leave."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was not true to say that Voldemort regretted his actions with Bellatrix, however, the way she now looked at him every time they met at a gathering or a lesson was distracting to say the least. It was as if she was replaying that night over and over in her mind every time she gazed upon him and he could clearly read the fantasies that whirled in her mind's eye. If anything, her infatuation with him – her obsession – was growing by the day. On the bright side, he had created an eternally faithful servant. But it was not all business. The Dark Lord was drawn to the dark beauty more than ever.

After he disbanded his meeting on one crisp autumn night a few weeks after the event in question, the Dark Lord noticed Bellatrix linger deliberately around the fireplace as other followers Disapparated or stepped into the emerald flames that burned bright and lit her up in an eerie glow.

"Is there something you wish to say, Bellatrix?" he asked coolly after watching her for a few moments. Her eyes flashed up at the sound of his voice. She opened and closed her mouth as if thinking how to form her words but then lowered her gaze and shook her head.

"No, master. I, well, I only wanted to…" her words failed her and she felt her cheeks burn brighter.

Voldemort showed the ghost of a smirk, "I believe I understand, Bellatrix." The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine and she glanced up to him with wide opal eyes. Seeing that his expression was not fiery with anger at her, Bellatrix started to return his twisted smile. "However," he spoke, "we have not scheduled a lesson this evening and I do not have anything for you to practice on." It was clear by Bella's deflation that this disappointed her.

What would be the use of asking her to stay if he couldn't watch her wield her magic in the way that excited him beyond mortal expression? Without it, what would he get it out of keeping her here? The Dark Lord turned, his cloak sweeping dramatically, and stepped away from her to collect his wand that was set down on the long mahogany table. Bellatrix followed his every move intently.

"Perhaps…" he spoke almost to himself, casting his mind back to their last private lesson and imagining the possibilities, "I could find something for you to do. If you… _desire_ it," he turned his head slowly to find her again and saw the dark flame that he treasured ignite inside of her. It was quite clear what his toying words were hinting at and he was sure by the way Bellatrix reacted that it was exactly what she was looking for.

"I'm sure I do, my Lord," she answered quite breathlessly. The Dark Lord's lips twisted upward. How could he refuse? His eyes were drawn to her chest as he noticed the rapid rate that her breasts rose and fell with every heavy breath; the constraints of her corset threatening to burst. He tore his eyes away from such a typical place of weakness and found her eyes once more; there he found the challenge.

"Come," he spoke in a soft hiss. Voldemort turned his back on the entrancing sorceress and swept from the room; sure she was following him by the rhythmical 'thud, thud, thud,' of her shoes on the wooden floor.

Voldemort led Bellatrix through the winding corridors of the manor house, up the staircase that wound to a large, locked room at the top. When they stopped outside it, so he could charm the door open, he was certain he could hear the pounding of her heart in his ear. He had always had strong senses but this that he picked up caused his own pulse to quicken. The woman was surely sent from Satan, he thought.

The door opened on a large, dark chamber, the centre point of which was a king-sized four poster bed adorned with silken sheets and large pillows. Bella entered, in awe of the space that she had never imagined seeing in her life. The more she thought about it, it was exactly as she would have expected – minimalist, without much decoration or personal touches, large enough to be split into two rooms with a great candelabra that cast a dull, orangey glow over the most part of the space.

The Dark Lord stepped into the room and stood, watching her with the gaze of a serpent waiting to strike. After taking in the room, Bellatrix stood a good distance apart from him and turned to face him. She lowered her gaze, looking on his predatory expression with an equally dark one that was heightened by the harsh shadow across her.

"Take off your clothes," the Dark Lord commanded as easily as if he had asked her to hand him a quill.

Bellatrix didn't once break eye contact as she expertly tugged at the strings of her corset. After a few moments, that lasted far too long for Voldemort's liking, the bodice loosened and she pulled it away from her porcelain skin so that it fell with a dull thud to the floor. Her lip tugged upwards as his eyes were drawn to her full breasts. Humanly instinct had drawn his eyes to them and he felt his stomach twist. In all his admiration of her, he had never noticed just how fine a specimen she was.

"And the rest," he managed with a dry throat.

With ease, Bellatrix unfastened her long skirts and also let them drop to the floor. She hooked her fingers in the band of her lace-adorned underwear but he held up a hand to warn her to leave them on. Understanding his gesture, Bellatrix quickly let go of the thong and brought her hands to rest on her thighs. She felt her cheeks flush as Voldemort looked upon her; his eyes scanning as though deciding whether or not to buy an extremely expensive watch.

Bellatrix dared to open her mouth when he did not make any sound for a few long moments, "Is everything to your liking, my Lord?" her voice was thick with lust.

The Dark Lord's intense gaze found her black orbs once more and he gave a curt nod. He swallowed to wet his throat but, feeling unable to voice his next instruction, he signalled to the bed and she quickly obeyed by making her way to it and perching on the end. Her unruly black curls fell over her shoulders and she shook them back; with a flick of her hand she moved a stray one from affront her eyes.

The Dark Lord did not remove his cloak or the clothes underneath; he could feel the crotch of his trousers straining already. Instead, he moved to stand opposite where Bellatrix sat, making her strain her neck backwards to keep looking to him. Voldemort felt an urge that he had never had before; he wanted to kiss Bellatrix – those full, painted lips were drawing him to them. Unable to deny himself anymore, he grabbed a fistful of those black curls which made Bella yelp in surprise and brought his thin lips crashing down on hers.

Voldemort's stomach knotted tightly as Bellatrix responded to the hard kiss. He tightened her hold on her hair and pulled it harshly to force her head back even further; it was a wonder she could still breathe. He pushed further into her and Bella, unable to do anything else, lay back on the bed as he continued to force her in that direction.

It was clear Bellatrix was used to being the one in charge because every so often she would try to bite at his lower lip or put her hands on him; all of which actions were denied by the Dark Lord of course. She had even had the audacity to try and flip them so that she could be on top which earned her a hard slap. She had whined when he struck her but she soon forgot about it the telling off when his nimble fingers crept between her legs. Bellatrix let out a whimper of pleasure as he touched her which encouraged him to keep going. His hand found her sweet spot after some roaming in the dark and he attacked it with such a force that Bella's cries of ecstasy became almost too much for him to listen to.

Voldemort removed his hand from between her legs and watched her with a ravenous hunger as she gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed red to match her smudged lipstick, and continued to grasp possessively at her hair. He gave her only a few seconds to regain her breath while he used his right hand to free himself from his trousers. He pushed aside her thong once again and without warning he rammed inside her. Voldemort gave a low hiss and saw her eyes roll in her head before his own eyes shut. He repeated the movement with more force and let out a guttural sound as Bella gave a breathy moan.

She arched her back and clawed at the silk sheets, having learned not to grab onto him, as Voldemort quickened his pace. The thrusts became harder, rougher as Voldemort lusted to hear her scream; and scream she did. It was as if she had been placed under a rather nasty Cruciatus Curse, in fact, which only gave him greater enjoyment. He pulled out of her suddenly and, not needing to be told twice, Bellatrix turned, shaking and gasping, onto her hands and knees.

Once in this position, it didn't take long for Voldemort to finish. Each thrust went deeper and Bellatrix's cries became louder until the very end where they both shuddered and he allowed her to collapse. Voldemort, not intending to show that the experience had affected him in any way, was quick to stand and pull his black cloak around himself.

He gave her a meek few moments to regain some sense and, as she sat up, he slickly tossed the discarded clothes to her. Not needing to be told, and understanding the pattern from their previous encounter, Bellatrix silently dressed then bowed to him with a breathy, "Thank you, my Lord," and swept, dishevelled, from the chamber.

Once sure she was gone, Voldemort exhaled deeply and sat on the end of his bed. The satanic woman had brought him to a sorry state. But she needn't know that, he reasoned. What would be the harm in having Bellatrix in such a useful place? It was not as if he felt anything for her; there was no _love. _This could only make things much better for him – much more pleasurable at the very least.


End file.
